


Last Words

by YaminoBossBitch



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-compliant genocide, Child Abuse, Death, Fascism, Gen, Genocide, Grief/Mourning, Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Murder, Sad, Trauma, canon-compliant character death, implied kakavege
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:34:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26534428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YaminoBossBitch/pseuds/YaminoBossBitch
Summary: On the planet Namek, Vegeta lays dying from his injuries brought on by Frieza. As he fades, he recounts to Kakarot, his new ally, the way his life has been shaped by violence and cruelty. The things that made Vegeta the way he is, and the looming question of if things had to turn out this way, all with his dying breaths.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16
Collections: My Dragonball Favs





	Last Words

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CapsuleCrisis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapsuleCrisis/gifts).



> CW: Major character death, canon-compliant character death, fascism, blood, injury, child abuse, canon-compliant genocide, grief, murder, canon-typical violence, abuse, trauma

The pain shot through Vegeta’s chest so suddenly, it was as if the air had been pulled from his lungs. His mouth was filled with blood and as his head collided with the ground, he coughed it up weakly. He could barely breathe, every inhale and exhale excruciating. His vision was blurring.

He was going to die.

Vegeta had been injured before. He had been seriously injured, on the brink of death. This was different. He had no doubt in his mind that he was about to die. He could see Kakarot, faintly.

“Ka...ka...rot...” he gasped.

He had to tell him everything. These were his last moments alive and he needed to use them to convince Kakarot to kill Frieza, not to show him mercy.

“Starting today, you’ll be working directly under Frieza.” His father said. Vegeta remembered the way his stomach dropped. Something was wrong. His father’s face. The men. Frieza. The air in the room was too heavy.

“But, I’ll still live in the palace with you, won’t I?” He asked. Frieza’s smile grew wider, crueler.

“You will be living amongst Frieza’s men as a soldier.” King Vegeta said.

Vegeta scowled. This was not what he had been promised.

“I am not some common foot soldier! I am the prince! I should be here! There are duties I need to—“

“Be quiet! You will do as you’re ordered!”

Vegeta bit his lip but couldn’t stop tears from welling in his eyes.

“Vegeta, save your strength.” Kakarot said.

“No...you need...to hear this...” Vegeta gasped. “He made me do...whatever he wanted...he said he’d kill my father...if I didn’t...”

Vegeta awoke, crumpled to the floor. He had been beaten unconscious again. He staggered up and stumbled to his room. Nappa was there. They shared a room, as Nappa’s duty was to keep constant watch over him. Yet, Nappa would say nothing as he saw Vegeta washing blood off his bruised skin time and time again. It wasn’t Vegeta he was sworn to protect. It was Frieza’s property. Vegeta couldn’t say anything anyway. Frieza told him he would kill his father if he caused any trouble.

As Vegeta looked at his swollen face in the mirror, he couldn’t help but think of home. The palace. It wasn’t as though his father never struck him, but never like this. At the palace he had his own room, he had tutors to teach him science and strategy, he had hot meals provided to him whenever he requested, and he still had plenty of time to train and go on missions, always by his father’s side. Here, on Frieza’s mothership, the living quarters were cramped and there were too many people. He had to steal books from other soldiers to learn whenever he could. He often went hungry, especially if he displeased Frieza in any way. He had very little free time anymore. Frieza worked them all until there was nothing left.

As soon as he was done cleaning himself up from the beating, he would have to return and stand in front of the one who had beaten him, listen to his orders, and bow graciously. That, or face another beating.

“Our homeworld...Planet Vegeta...he blew it up...” He panted. Tears were streaming down his face and he couldn’t stop them now. It was a pain he had been holding inside for so long. One he had locked in his mind and told himself he would deal with later. But now there was no later, and decades of painful memories had suddenly become fresh.

Vegeta locked himself in the bathroom and sobbed for hours. His father was dead. His home was gone. His people. He had kept it together until he had gotten back to the ship. When he saw the remains of the planet. When he saw the mothership and that there were no Saiyans except the ones that had been with him. When Frieza mocked him for thinking his status as a prince mattered anymore.

He had a towel balled up in his lap and screamed and sobbed into it. He just wanted his father. He wanted to go home. He wanted the pain to stop. All this time, all the cruel things Frieza had put him through, Vegeta always believed that someday his father would save him. Now it was hopeless.

When he had cried all he could, he rinsed his face with cold water and stepped outside, nearly walking directly into Raditz. Raditz was the only Saiyan close to his age who had survived. It was unfortunate, as Vegeta never cared for him much. He was full of himself and seemed to think he was on the same level as the prince. But right now, Raditz didn’t look overconfident at all. He was trembling violently.

“V-Vegeta...” he said in a small voice that shook. “M-my mom and dad—they’re dead and...and my...e-everyone is saying that my dad is a traitor and I don’t know how—m-my dad is not a traitor!” He broke into sobs. Vegeta looked around frantically for anyone watching. The hallway was clear. He grabbed Raditz by the arm and yanked him into his room. Then, to both of their surprises, he hugged Raditz tight.

“Shut up, you fool. Pull yourself together. We are warriors. You cannot let this break you.” He said firmly as Raditz continued to bawl into his shoulder.

He had compassion then. Vegeta often wondered what kind of person he would have been if he hadn’t lost that.

“He made me do whatever he wanted...he said he’d kill my father if I didn’t...I did everything he asked...but he killed him anyway...”

Vegeta was barely 13 years old when he went numb. He remembered the day it happened. The day one of Frieza’s men tried to mess with him. He had Vegeta by the hair.

“Come on, monkey, fight back if you can,” he mocked as he tossed Vegeta to the floor. “Weak. Just like your father. He never fought back either. I guess he must not have wanted you, since he gave you up so easily.”

Something in Vegeta snapped. He screamed, and charged. He beat the man down, slamming his face into the floor. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. He had lost all control. He threw the man into the air and fired a ki blast through his heart.

He collapsed limply to the ground. Vegeta observed the body for a moment. He’d be in a lot of trouble for killing a soldier like that. He’d be severely punished. Beaten. Sent on more dangerous missions. Starved.

But for the first time, Vegeta didn’t care. He wasn’t afraid. He felt nothing. It was oddly freeing. Though the punishments that followed this incident were severe, his reputation for brutality spread quickly. The men began to leave him alone. Soon, the only one who dared to mess with him still was Frieza himself. And even then, it had become easy for Vegeta to tune out the violence. To smile and bow and say things like “yes, sir” and “as you wish.” He was empty inside, but it suited him.

“Vegeta, save your energy.” Kakarot said. Naïve. There was no point saving his energy. He was going to die either way.

The book was one that had been locked away for a long time. Most Saiyan books were lost, the ones that weren’t destroyed with the planet were often burned. But he had found one very old anatomy textbook locked in a vault, buried under various treasures. He stayed up as long as he could keep his eyes open at night and read it. He didn’t fully understand all of it, he was a warrior and not a scientist, but he could follow along for the most part.

It was nearly halfway through the textbook when his suspicions were confirmed.

“Saiyans have evolved this unique trait of survival, that after each battle where they are severely injured or nearly killed, their body will evolve and adapt during the healing process, restoring them not to prior health and strength, but increased. In extreme cases, their power levels can increase exponentially.”

He had been thinking this must be true for a while. After every battle, he felt stronger, but almost more so after the beatings, after the losses. Waking up in the healing tanks he often felt strangely invincible.

The next morning, when he reported to Frieza, he antagonized him. He argued and spat insults and told blatant lies until Frieza lost his patience. He even fought back as Frieza struck, so he would hit him even harder. It worked.

Vegeta awoke in the healing tank. It must have been the worst beating he had ever gotten. When he stepped out, Nappa stomped up to him.

“Have you gone crazy? You’re going to get us all killed!” He barked. Vegeta smirked. He stepped over to a control panel. With a flick of his wrist, it was smashed into pieces, shattered to the floor. Nappa jumped back. “H-how did you do that?”

“I’m going to find a way, Nappa. I’m going to get strong enough to defeat Frieza.”

Vegeta could no longer feel his limbs. This was really it. He was going to die. He was going to die at the hands of the one he has gone through so much hell trying to defeat himself. All the cruelty and abuse. All the violence. All the fear. The way he had grown so cold and numb—it wasn’t as if Vegeta hadn’t noticed how much of a bastard he had become as he struggled to survive Frieza’s sadistic games—he knew it wasn’t normal. He knew of no other way to get through.

Vegeta had devoted so much of his life to trying to escape. Educating himself in secret. Training at ungodly hours when nobody was around. Hiding his plans even from Nappa when he was able to. He even had a secret emergency bag of things that he kept in his room in case he ever had to run on a moment’s notice. He smiled to Frieza’s face and dreamed every night of being the one to watch the light fade from his eyes.

In the end, it turned out to be the other way around. Vegeta couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he deserved this.

Brutality was a game. How far could he go. How deranged could he get. If he had to be a villain then he figured he may as well be the ultimate villain, someone they’d write about in history books, someone whose malignity would outshine even Frieza’s.

He didn’t even hear the screams anymore. They were background noise, like music filling the silence. The sensation of bones crunching under his strikes were soothing, and the beep of his scouter as his enemies’ power levels dropped off the map when their hearts stopped beating was a reward for a job well done.

A monster. A villain. Someone with no good, no kindness, no love in his heart. He had fully convinced himself that this was his destiny. He didn’t care about anyone or anything but himself. The nightmares that woke him up screaming meant nothing. The occasionally sobbing in the shower as he rinsed off the blood of his victims meant nothing. The times when anxiety overwhelmed him and he had to find somewhere to hide while he hyperventilated meant nothing.

He was evil.

Kakarot was little more than a shadowy silhouette above him now. Kakarot was so kind. So forgiving. So warm. He was good. Vegeta once had some of those qualities, and they all died in his ice cold heart.

He wondered what he would have been like if he could have kept those qualities. If he could have been kind. If he could have protected his fellow Saiyans instead of leaving them to their own devices, or killing them himself. If he could have come to Earth seeking help, not war. If he could have been a hero, like Kakarot. Or would his kindness have gotten him killed? Would he have shown a gentle side to the wrong person and died for his trouble?

Vegeta never thought there was an option. He never even tried to keep his compassion. Everything hurt so much less when he let his rage become a shield and his heart become black. Even so, a part of him, a part he refused to acknowledge existed for so long, missed being good. Under his father, he did terrible things, but he was never a monster. He was never so utterly uncaring. He still could feel.

“He made me what I am...Don’t let him do it to anyone else...Stop him, please.”

The cold put him to sleep.

(This fic was written for [CapsuleCrisis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapsuleCrisis/profile). If you liked this story and want to know how to get one of your very own, check me out [here](https://chi-chi-mcroberts.tumblr.com/post/627008462566653952))


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